I see no ships

Two boats pass our mooring, heading up the Hatton flight together. One of them we recognise from Burghfield Island in Reading! At this time of year, the chances of setting off for the flight at the same time as another boat in the same direction are pretty slim.

As we're in no hurry, we find that raising just one paddle to fill each lock saves us a lot of physical effort. As we count off each of the sixteen wide-locks remaining to the top, there are probably a dozen or more walkers and their humans out for a Sunday stroll, but no boats are catching us up or appearing coming down! We have to do the Hatton together, solo, so to speak.

Every now and then a family or a couple stop to watch, or ask questions about Pelangi, or how the lock works or where we're going. One local lady walking the towpath with her dog quips to Jo, "you've got a lot of steps to go up, my dear!" Chris is sure he can see someone now working the paddle or gate about three locks behind us... but it's like hallucinating: we 'see' what we desperately hope to see!
There's a sign at lock eleven - Hatton Middle Lock - which Chris is religiously snapping 'to prove' that we were here, and not cheating by taking the nearby M40 or something! We plod on...
Eventually we come to some canalside buildings (CRT owned), that as well as housing workshops, serve to welcome visitors to the Hatton, and would, in peak holiday period, be busy with Gongoozlers - boat/canal watchers - observing many boats going up and down the locks, sometimes with a number of lock-volunteers in attendance. Not today, though; the place is deserted, except for us.
At last we're nearing the summit, and just as we're completing the penultimate lock, there's a boat coming down from the top lock. The irony of fate's timing couldn't be more frustrating! Nevertheless, we're about to snap our picture of the Hatton Top Lock sign to, er, prove blah blah, and celebrate being here again - fifteen years after making the flight for the first time (descending in our old boat, Jenny May), we're back, triumphant at bringing Pelangi up the flight solo, in exactly four hours!
A Country and Western not-very-good-singer playing loudly in the canalside cafe's garden doesn't dampen our spirits - we use the boaters' recycling facilities to dispose of a very full bag of beverage bottles and moor up for the day just before Shrewley Tunnel (433 yards)... a very good day we feel, all things considered.Read more